


Your Kingdom for a Horse

by HeartlessMemo



Category: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Guillermo is a peasant, Historical AU, M/M, Nandor is a warrior-king, Pillaging, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27283477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartlessMemo/pseuds/HeartlessMemo
Summary: Guillermo is a stable hand. Nandor is a warrior-king who comes to pillage Guillermo's village.---“Peasant.” He reached a massive hand upwards to cup it around Guillermo’s round cheek. In a move of discordant tenderness, he swiped away a tear with his thumb. “Are you responsible for these animals?”Guillermo drew in a shuddering breath and answered, “Y- yes, m- milord. Please, please don’t hurt them!”The man rubbed his palm over Guillermo’s cheek as he murmured in a low, patronizing coo, “Shhh, calm yourself now. I can see that you care dearly for these horses, yes?” He didn’t wait for Guillermo to respond. “What will you do, then, to protect them?”
Relationships: Guillermo de la Cruz/Nandor the Relentless
Comments: 9
Kudos: 72





	Your Kingdom for a Horse

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [Jackie_Gaytona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackie_Gaytona/pseuds/Jackie_Gaytona). Log in to view. 



> Yo. This fic is highly cursed **NON-CON**. So, if that is not your thing then please don't read it! 
> 
> Eternal thanks to [interrobam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interrobam/pseuds/Interrobam) for beta-reading this for me and for being unendingly supportive, creative and galaxy-brained.
> 
> Also thanks to [Jackie_Daytona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackie_Daytona/pseuds/Jackie_Daytona), whose fic, _Closer_ , losely inspired this one!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this!

Guillermo woke to the sound of thunder and the frantic whinnies of nervous horses in the stable below. He rolled off his pallet with a groan, scrubbing at his tired face with his fingers and crawling over to the steep ladder that led down from the hayloft. He made it to the bottom of the narrow rungs before finally catching sight of the orange glow shining through the seam around the barn doors. His mind moved sluggishly toward a conclusion.

Fire. 

It had been a dry summer and he’d heard stories of wildfires burning whole villages to ash. His heart seized in his chest and he looked round wildly at his charges: three young draught horses owned by his master, but beloved by Guillermo. They stared back at him with feral, gleaming eyes and the stable hand’s stomach plummeted. They were terrified. So was he.

He smelled smoke, but it was not the choking, oppressive presence that it would be if the stable itself were on fire. They were safe. For now. Guillermo patted his favorite horse on the neck and received a nudge to his shoulder in return

“Shh, Sam. We’re okay. I’m just going to go see what’s happening.”

He rushed toward the side door, but slowed as his ears perked up and he began to parse the thunderous sound coming from outside. He’d assumed it was merely the roar of a great fire. But now he could hear other sounds: screaming… begging… laughter. And hoof beats. Hundreds of hoofs pounding the packed earth and shaking the village to its foundations. This wasn’t a wildfire. This was an invasion. 

Guillermo’s mouth went dry, his tongue turning into a revolting block of chalk, making it impossible to swallow the lump of dread in his throat. The back of his neck broke out in cold sweat and he froze in place, stricken with horror as tales of Al Quolanudarian raiders played through his memories. Sacking and pillaging were the least of his worries. Guillermo had heard other rumors. The Al Quolanudarian warrior-king was without mercy. He and his band of reavers committed atrocities for fun. Torture... rape... murder. Finally, Guillermo tore himself from his stupor and dashed towards the tack room. He would saddle Sam and take what little food he had stored in the loft. With luck he could slip away unnoticed— 

An awful splintering crack tore through the tense atmosphere of the stable and Guillermo turned to see the blade of an axe embedded in the barn door. He watched, lips trembling in fright, as the blade was wrenched back and then came slamming forward again and again and again, opening a wide, mawing hole big enough for the armored soldier to force himself inside.

Guillermo backed into the tack room, hiding in the shadows before he could be spotted and watching while three massive men broke into his stable. Their armor clinked gently as they moved and their voices were low and hushed. One of them held a torch, illuminating stern faces and limning fearsome armor in golden light. Two were obviously lowly soldiers, their armor was dented in places and relatively plain. But the third man… He stood half a head taller than the others and carried himself with a condescending, royal air. His armor was polished to a mirror shine, marred only by fresh splatters of blood from the recent carnage. He removed a gleaming, plumed helmet to reveal long, pitch dark locks tied up at the crown of his head in a practical topknot. His features glowed in the torchlight: roughly hewn, brooding brows, a jagged wedge nose and a neatly-trimmed beard that somehow softened the serious set of his full lips. Handsome.  _ He was handsome _ , Guillermo thought.  _ And absolutely terrifying. _

“Hello, Mr. Handsome Horsey Sir. How are you? Are you worried about all of the noise?” 

Guillermo almost gave himself away with a choked noise, but he quickly swallowed it. This man, in his fine armor, with his imperious expression and menacing blood-stained brow, had just sweet-talked Sam. And Sam, the traitor, was responding. He nuzzled his nose against the man’s outstretched palm and let out an affectionate nicker. 

“Your majesty,” the man holding the torch spoke up as he inspected the other two horses. “These animals are too small to mount in battle and they will surely starve if we leave them behind. We should slaughter them for their meat…”

Guillermo didn’t have time to recognize that it was a look of annoyance which flashed across the leader’s features. His mind went blank— he rushed forward without any conscious decision, his feet moving of their own accord. As soon as he stepped out of the tack room, all three men drew their swords. Huge, razor-sharp curved blades reflected the firelight and all of them were pointed directly at Guillermo’s frantically racing heart. He froze, feeling a bone-deep terror and vulnerability. He was dressed in a homespun tunic and breeches; his feet were bare; his hands were empty. Guillermo was strong— he had to be to do his job caring for the horses— but his body was trained for honest labor, not violence. He’d lived a peaceful existence, never raising a hand in anger once before in his whole life, but still Guillermo balled his fists and held them up like a prize fighter. He wouldn’t let them hurt his horses. 

His show of bravado was betrayed by the tremor in his voice as he spoke, “Please! Don’t hurt them.”

The soldier closest to Guillermo spat upon the ground and laughed, “Another one for the pyre! You look plump and juicy. I bet you’ll smell like a nice, fatty mutton when you burn…”

The two soldiers lunged forward and grabbed Guillermo’s arms. He struggled, trying to throw a punch, but they were too fast and too strong. When one of them pressed his sword to Guillermo’s throat, he went limp in terrified submission. They jeered at how easily the little man had been subdued, digging vicious fingers into the meat of his biceps as they hauled him toward the stable door. Guillermo’s feet dragged along the hay-strewn floor and he wailed in terror, begging them to let him live, to let his horses live. They had nearly reached the hole in the door when the warrior-king’s voice stopped them in their tracks.

“Wait.” 

The men paused. Guillermo’s neck bobbed against the blade as he swallowed. His breath was shallow and labored. The warlord came forward, armor clinking menacingly as he stalked round to stand just in front of Guillermo’s restrained body. Guillermo tried to avert his eyes, to lower them in respect as he must, but the blade forced his head back and he found himself gazing into the dark, molten pools of the man’s eyes. When he spoke his voice was deep and compelling, as if he were casting a spell with his words that Guillermo was powerless to resist. 

“Peasant.” He reached a massive hand upwards to cup it around Guillermo’s round cheek. In a move of discordant tenderness, he swiped away a tear with his thumb. “Are you responsible for these animals?”

Guillermo drew in a shuddering breath and answered, “Y- yes, m- milord. Please, please don’t hurt them!”

The man rubbed his palm over Guillermo’s cheek as he murmured in a low, patronizing coo, “Shhh, calm yourself now. I can see that you care dearly for these horses, yes?” He didn’t wait for Guillermo to respond. “What will you do, then, to protect them?”

The change in the atmosphere was immediate and visceral. The men flanking him went from ignoring him in a show of dispassionate menace to eyeing him with carnal interest in a matter of seconds. But Guillermo barely noticed them. He was trapped, pinned down by the dark, hungry eyes of the warlord. 

The words slipped from his lips before he could stop them, could consider if he truly meant them. “A- anything, milord. Anything you want,  _ please _ .”

Dark eyes gleamed with pleasure and the man smiled. “Release him,” he commanded, waving a limp wrist in the direction of his subordinates. The sword fell away from Guillermo’s throat at once and he breathed deeply in relief. But his reprieve was short lived as strong hands once again wrapped around his upper arms, squeezing cruelly.  _ I’m going to have bruises _ , he thought deliriously. The man leaned down from his great height to speak directly into Guillermo’s face, “Do you know my name, peasant?”

The two soldiers had fallen back a respectful distance away from them, but Guillermo could feel their lecherous eyes on him and he heard one of them snicker at the sound of alarm that escaped his throat before he answered haltingly, “A-are you…” His voice failed. The name felt like an evocation. If he said it out loud then the monster would be real. “N- Nandor? Nandor the Relentless?”

The wicked grin that spread over the man’s lips was all the answer Guillermo needed. 

“Very good! You are quite learned for a pitiful horse-minder peasant, aren’t you?” he prompted. The praise was mean-spirited, cruel. The two onlookers let out rowdy guffaws at Guillermo’s expense and the small man felt his cheeks blaze in mortification.

“Wh- what do you want from me?” His voice was barely a whisper, audible only to Nandor, who stood close enough for Guillermo to feel his hot, wine-scented breath on his face.

Nandor reared back and raked his lusty eyes up and down Guillermo’s cringing body. Guillermo had never felt more naked, more vulnerable. His stomach plummeted at the obvious intent in those eyes. 

“Do you have any jewels to offer me, peasant? Coins of gold, perhaps?” Nandor suggested with a sidelong smirk at his companions. Guillermo blinked up at him hopelessly. “No?” Nandor chuckled. “I wonder what it is that a lowly mud person such as yourself could possibly offer a man like me?”

Sam neighed nervously from his stall and the sound cut to Guillermo’s heart. Sweet Sam, who worked so hard and would never hurt a fly, reduced to a pile of meat. The thought turned his stomach and tears spilled over his cheeks. He found himself begging unintelligibly, desperate nonsensical promises falling from his trembling lips as sobs clawed at his throat.

“Now, now.” Nandor’s tone dripped with saccharine reassurance. “Do not fear, little peasant. There is  _ one thing _ you possess which you can offer to me.”

He traced his hand around the outside of Guillermo’s arm, down, down, down, before reaching around to let it rest over the ample curve of his backside. He met Guillermo’s eyes, smirked and gave it a squeeze. Guillermo’s lips fell open in a pitiful little squeak. The touch— possessive, dominating, and yet gentle— had gone straight to his groin. He felt his body respond, his cock stirring with interest inside his breeches. The mortification was too much and he shut his eyes against it, fat tears rolling down his face. 

“Down on your knees now, peasant,” Nandor commanded, removing his hand from his ass and pressing firmly on Guillermo’s shoulders until the man’s knees buckled and he sank to the floor.

Guillermo kept his eyes shut, desperately trying to swallow the heavy sobs that choked his throat. He listened to the clink of chainmail being rearranged and the unmistakable sound of a belt buckle coming undone. There was a moment of silence before he felt a hand alight on top of his head, petting his soft curls as if he were a favored hound. 

“Do you know what an honor is being granted to you, little one? I am providing you the opportunity to gaze upon my sword, and you refuse my generosity? Open your eyes.” The hand tightened just slightly as he issued the command, just enough for Guillermo to feel the tension on his strands. 

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and was greeted by the sight of Nandor’s long, thick cock, it’s head weeping precum only inches from his face. Guillermo’s tears ran down his face, clinging to the curve of his jaw and the underside of his chin as he choked on a pitiful sob. He’d never done this. He’d never even  _ kissed  _ anyone and now… Laughter from the other side of the room filled him with shame and he was forced to listen to the cruel commentary from Nandor’s soldiers.

“Look at him, weeping like a woman! You think he’ll scream like one?” one taunted.

“Not with his majesty’s dick in his throat, he won’t,” the other answered.

Guillermo’s whole body shook with tremors as Nandor’s hand moved to the back of his head and began guiding him forward. The warrior-king’s words were haughty and careless of his humiliation. “Be a good little peasant and open your pretty mouth now. And if you try your very best, you know, maybe I won’t light you on fire afterwards. It is not very nice of a time, to be burned to death, little man. Yeesh, the wailing!”

The smooth tip of Nandor’s erection brushed Guillermo’s soft, bow lips. He could sense the heat of the warlord’s blood, pulsing with lust and violence. He could smell the wealth and privilege on his skin, in the scent of spilled blood, in the argan oil and incense that clung to him. The hand kept pressing forward and Guillermo parted his lips, allowing him entrance. The heavy weight of the man’s cock settled on his tongue. His jaw strained painfully but Nandor kept thrusting forward into his mouth until Guillermo convulsed with panic. Nandor’s hands clenched on the sides of his head and the guttural moan that rumbled from his chest sent a shiver down Guillermo’s spine. 

“Amir,” Nandor said from overhead, ignoring Guillermo’s frantic squirming. “Be sure to remind the men to reap the fields before they burn them this time. I do not want to be running out of food again.”

Nandor pulled out of Guillermo’s mouth with a sudden, jerking motion. He gave the smaller man a few seconds to gasp for air before forcing himself back inside his mouth and rutting against his face once more. Guillermo’s sobs were muffled by the shaft pounding in and out of his throat, his tears left stinging tracks on his cheeks and all along he was forced to listen as his attackers exchanged casual conversation about destroying his home as if he were nothing. As if the scene before them were not the worst thing ever to happen to Guillermo.

“Will you be leaving anything for us, my lord?” one of the men asked. Amir? The man with the torch? Their voices had blended into one vicious, evil amalgam. When the soldier next spoke, his tone had changed from deferential respect to lecherous cruelty, and Guillermo knew the man was now addressing him. “How does Al Quolanudarian dick taste, peasant? Is it better than your Master’s? Are you hungry for cum? Have you a taste for it? Do you want to sample mine when you’ve finished swallowing the king’s?”

Guillermo whimpered around Nandor’s dick and the warrior tightened his fingers on either side of his head, stroking through his damp curls almost... reassuringly? It reminded Guillermo of the way he would stroke the side of Sam’s neck when lightning storms came and frightened him in the night, his twitching hide calming under Guillermo’s hand as he promised to protect the beast from the noise and flashes of light. 

“There are at least a dozen perfectly good mud farmers rounded up in the village square as we speak,” Nandor responded, never ceasing his brutal fucking of Guillermo’s flushed, ruined face. “Why don’t you two go and pick one out for yourselves? I am not going to be finished with this one for some time.”

Once the soldiers had left Nandor pulled out of Guillermo’s mouth with an obscenely wet pop. He gazed down at Guillermo with a sigh of satisfaction, grabbing his cock and brushing the tip over the peasant’s swollen lips with evident pleasure. The smile that graced Nandor’s lips was almost gentle. Guillermo kept his position, face upturned, gazing at his conqueror with fear and hesitant hope. He had sent the others away... perhaps now he would show mercy? Perhaps the stories had gotten the warrior-king all wrong. But the next words from Nandor’s mouth put those hopes to death.

“Now, should I fuck you here or in the hay loft, I am wondering? Do you keep your little bed up there? It might be nicer for you, I think, to be fucked in your little peasant hay nest, no?” Nandor spoke as if he were bequeathing a most generous gift upon an unfortunate beggar. 

Guillermo gaped up at him dumbly, his lips were coated in his own drool and his hair was mussed. He looked and felt utterly debauched already, and his stomach churned to think there was more to come. 

Nandor snapped his fingers in his face and gestured to the ladder. “Proceed, peasant. You are not brain-addled, are you? You did not seem so, before, but it can be quite difficult to tell...” He leaned down, his erect cock still proudly displayed between his legs, and spoke with slow, obnoxious precision: “We. Are. Going. Up. Now. To. The. Loft. To. Fuck.”

Guillermo scrambled to his feet; his legs shook beneath him. Standing so close to the towering warlord, he felt his absolute vulnerability. Guillermo was small and powerless, completely at the mercy of this cold-hearted pillager and his sadistic whims. His eyes sparkled with the reflected light of the fire outside as he looked up at his captor, his enemy, his vengeful, capricious god. “P- please, don’t do this, y- your majesty. I’m a virgin.”

Poor Guillermo watched Nandor’s eyes alight with glee and he realized he’d said the worst possible thing. “Good, very good. I knew it from the moment I saw you. Now— “ He swatted Guillermo’s ass with a sharp smack, “get that round rump up that ladder before I rape you right here on the ground like some kind of cave pig.”

Guillermo ascended the rungs with humiliated, frightened tears streaming down his face. He wondered how long a person could cry before their body ran out of water. He could feel Nandor’s presence behind him, and imagined the man eying him, feasting on the sight of his thick bottom. Once, maybe, Guillermo might have felt a secret thrill to have the gaze of such a handsome, powerful man directed upon him. But not now. Not like this.

Nandor eyed Guillermo’s threadbare straw mattress with a frown and obvious distaste. His voice was quiet but deep as he spoke; Guillermo imagined he heard the echo of a fierce battle cry in his gravelly tone. “Your life is truly pathetic, peasant. You should feel very honored that I would deign to lie with you in such a place. Now take off your clothes and get onto your hands and knees.”

Guillermo hesitated for a moment, stricken with terror as he watched Nandor lazily stroke himself back to full hardness. His eyes fixated on the warrior’s intimidating size and girth and his stomach twisted. He fell on his knees once more, crawling forward and shoving his face between Nandor’s legs. He desperately licked and mouthed at the conqueror’s cock, all the while weeping and begging.

“Please, I can’t, milord! It’s too big… you’re too… I c- can do this for you again instead, okay? Please, I’ll do better this time. I won’t cry, I’ll—”

Nandor groaned as Guillermo’s lips moved against his shaft, but in the end he pulled away, raising his hand and striking Guillermo across the cheek with an open palm. The stinging pain shocked Guillermo into silence. 

“I have never heard of a peasant talking so much as you do!” Nandor admonished with annoyance. He grabbed Guillermo’s shoulders and spun him round, throwing him face-down onto the bed. Guillermo gasped as the man’s hands came to the waist of his pants and pulled downward, tearing the fabric with an audible rip. Nandor’s seeking, plundering hands squeezed into the flesh of his backside and the larger man groaned, rutting against Guillermo. The cold, hard kiss of chainmail against his body chilled his delicate skin and Guillermo shook, burying his face in the rough fabric of his blanket as Nandor’s cock slid between his cleft. Horribly, mortifyingly, Guillermo felt himself stirring in arousal at the sensation. It was his body's betrayal more than anything else that brought the next broken sob to his lips. 

Nandor ignored his misery, clenching the smaller man’s hips in a bruising grip and growling in pleasure. “You have such a nice, fat ass, peasant! I have not been thinking that lowly creatures like yourself could be so deliciously  _ plump _ .” Nandor’s hand strayed from Guillermo’s hip and stroked along the sensitive skin of his bottom, coming to rest on his pulsing, flinching opening. “You would make a very nice little whore for me, I think. Would you like that, stable man? To be your master’s concubine?” His finger pressed forward and Guillermo jumped, squealing in surprise and fright. He was too terrified to register shock when his attacker’s voice softened. “Shh… do not be so tense. You will only make it harder on yourself, peasant.”

Guillermo closed his eyes, fisted his hands in the mattress and tried to prepare himself for what he was about to endure. He heard the distinct, moist hacking of Nandor spitting into his own hand and a moment later his fingers returned to Guillermo’s tight hole, wet and probing. He slipped one long, thick finger inside of him with neither ceremony nor warning. Guillermo gasped in pain and surprise, his walls clenching involuntarily around the invading digit. Nandor leaned over the flushed, straining little man and stroked his other hand through the sweaty curls atop his head. 

He spoke in a condescending lilt, “Did you know, peasant, that kings are chosen by God? That means you are a very special little person to be servicing a king.” He pumped his finger in and out a few times, harsh and rough, audibly delighting in the tense pain on Guillermo’s face. “This is the closest to God that a lowly peasant like you can hope to reach, you know. You should savor it.”

He added another finger. And then another. Guillermo grunted, his tears finally running dry. He tried to keep quiet, to stifle the humiliating noises and words that bubbled up his throat, but he couldn’t help it. Nandor was right-- he was a talkative peasant, it turned out.

“Ahh! Ugh… it h- hurts. Ah! P- please… oh, God, it  _ hurts _ .”

Nandor removed his fingers, chuckling. “This next part is going to hurt much more, I am afraid.” Guillermo felt Nandor’s rigid cock line up with his entrance and madness took him. He flailed and fought, trying desperately to crawl away. But Nandor simply laid a hand on his back, pinning him in place with monstrous strength. “Will you stop that!” he chided. “It does not have to be all bad, you know…” He reached around and shoved his hand down the front of Guillermo’s breeches, encircling a massive fist around his thick, short cock. “You might find you enjoy it. After all, peasant, this is a great honor for you. To serve God’s chosen…”

In one terrible motion, Nandor pressed his body flush against Guillermo’s back and sank his cock into his aching, tiny hole. Guillermo finally screamed. A true, ear-splitting wail that startled the horses and set off a cacophony of frightened neighs and stomping hooves down below. Nandor, annoyed, squeezed Guillermo’s partially hard penis a little too tightly and hissed a warning, “Stop that screaming, commoner! You are worrying the horsies!”

The pain was unbearable. Guillermo felt like a ripe peach, split in half and bleeding juices out onto the ground. Nandor was a solid, massive, invasive force inside of him and the man lived up to his title. He did not relent at the sound of Gullermo’s agony, but immediately began thrusting roughly into Guillermo’s ass as his hand moved over Guillermo’s cock, stroking him with firm, rapid movements that swiftly brought him to full arousal. 

Guillermo moaned, torn between searing pain and humiliating pleasure. The rigid plates of Nandor’s armor dug uncomfortably into his back. Nandor tucked his face into the crook of Guillermo’s neck and grunted in feral pleasure as his hips snapped back and forth without mercy. The hand on Guillermo’s erection was calloused and rough. Nandor was no pampered monarch. He was a warrior-king who delighted in fighting, in conquest. And Guillermo was just one among many spoils of battle he had claimed. But his touch wasn’t entirely ungentle, and Guillermo soon found himself teetering on the edge of a precipice he’d only ever encountered at his own hand. He opened his mouth and bit into the blanket, muffling a cry as his whole body shivered and his cock twitched and spurted from within Nandor’s fist. 

“Very good,” Nandor praised, removing his hand and wiping it on the back of Guillermo’s shirt. He dug his fingers back into Guillermo’s hips and began thrusting more violently, forcing the peasant’s face deep into the mattress as he fucked him with abandon. His voice came out soft and breathless as he approached his own climax. “You see, I am having mercy on you, little peasant. Do you think I am going around giving all of my conquests this sort of pleasure? Ha! You should feel very lucky.”

At last Nandor finally roared and released his seed inside the smaller man with one final, powerful thrust. Guillermo, still stunned from his own release, accepted it with limp, raw numbness. He lay boneless beneath Nandor’s heaving body as the man pumped into him a few more times before finally slipping out. 

For a second, Guillermo lay completely still, unsure if it was truly over. But then he heard Nandor adjusting himself, fastening his belt and shifting his chainmail. Slowly, warily, Guillermo curled his legs up to his chest and hugged them, clenching his eyes shut and wishing, hoping, praying that Nandor would leave him alone now and that he could pretend this had never happened. Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks; he wept bitterly. He felt like his body was on fire. Shame filled him as he felt something sticky and wet leak out of him. His hips and arms were tender with bruises and his jaw ached from his earlier violation. He wanted to crawl under the blanket and pretend that he was safe again, but his attacker was still here and his band of invaders still prowled the village.

A weight settled on the mattress beside him and Guillermo tensed, rigid with fear, as he was suddenly lifted and arranged on Nandor’s lap. The warrior wrapped his strong arms around the smaller man and his voice rumbled in a soothing tone, the kind one would use with a startled horse. “Shh... there there, little peasant. You have done a very good job, haven’t you? I am very much pleased with you.”

Guillermo opened his eyes, looking up at Nandor’s rugged, handsome face as the man pet him on the head. He felt sick to his stomach and his head ached as though it would split in two. Sorrow, humiliation, and desperation strangled his voice. This man had hurt him, had plundered and violated him; but Guillermo wanted so badly to be comforted. It didn’t matter who was offering, he would accept it with gratitude. He let out a pitiful, keening cry and buried his face into Nandor’s neck, clinging to him as he wept.

“Yes, I know. It was very scary for you,” Nandor spoke absentmindedly, rubbing circles into Guillermo’s back. “But you know, it will be better next time. I can be gentle. It is only that tonight I was in the frenzy of battle-lust. You understand.”

For a long while Nandor’s words did not sink into Guillermo’s overwrought mind. He wrapped his arms around the warrior’s chest and hugged him, weeping openly and letting himself take comfort in the man’s arms around him and his gentle touch. Every delicate stroke of Nandor’s hand on Guillermo’s back rang with the echo of a violent, wounding touch. The skin of Nandor’s neck was warm and stubbled. Guillermo pressed his face into it and let out a shuddery sigh. Nandor’s chest rose and fell with his breathing and Guillermo marveled that such a man breathed air just like he did.

But reality crept in, and the man’s words finally pierced the fog around Guillermo’s mind. Icy fingers rept up his spine. His voice wavered as he breathed out the question, “N- next time?”

“Of course,” Nandor replied casually, as if his words were not condemning the man in his arms to a lifetime of nights such as this one. “You will come and be my concubine, naturally. I mean, I could leave you here if you like. You’ll be dead within a week and your horsies as well most likely. Not to mention, if our business together is truly concluded, then my men will want to have their own turns with you…”

Guillermo tightened his arms around Nandor and let out a panicked squeak, shaking his head and moaning pitifully, “No…”

Nandor chucked under his breath. “That is what I was thinking. You will make for me a very nice little whore, I think. I cannot wait to dress you in something more pleasing. Silk, I think. Sheer, so that I can see through it to your juicy, round bum...”

Guillermo’s lips trembled as he listened to Nandor’s plans for him. The fire still raged in the village around them. He could hear distant cries of anguish. And all the while this warlord— brutal, vicious, feared across the land— held him in his arms and pressed kisses to the top of his head as if he were a cherished, willing lover and not a helpless victim. Guillermo was so very tired, and so very lost, that he allowed himself pretend, leaning into the man’s embrace.

“What is your name, anyway? I cannot be calling you ‘peasant’ all of the time,” Nandor asked, angling his head to meet Guillermo’s tired eyes.

His throat was raw from screaming, his voice came out in a weak whisper, “My name is Guillermo.”

Nandor grimaced, scrunching his face up in confusion. “Guillermo? What kind of name is that for a peasant? Shouldn’t it be something like...Jug? Or… Hay?”

Guillermo wondered if he was just naming things he saw around the room. It didn’t seem necessary to answer him and so he remained silent, resting his head on the warrior’s shoulder and letting their breath fall into sync. The peace lasted a few minutes longer until Nandor finally moved away, scooting off the pallet and rising to his full, impressive height. He gazed down upon Guillermo with a strange look of possessive affection.

“I have some more pillaging to do now,” he explained, adjusting the sword belt on his hip. “You will remain here until I come and fetch you… Guillermo.”

His name in Nandor’s deep, commanding voice sounded strange to Guillermo’s ears. It felt momentous, somehow. As if this moment, the claiming of his name by his conqueror, were the final defeat. Now he well and truly belonged to Nandor the Relentless.

Nandor was already moving off to the ladder when Guillermo’s small voice reached him. “And...my horses?” 

Funny… the horses hadn’t even belonged to him before this night. Somehow, in the act of claiming him, this man had also given Guillermo the first, and likely last, piece of property he would ever own.

Nandor turned to look back at him over his shoulder. He fitted his helmet back onto his head and suddenly he was transformed, turning back into the hulking, violent, monster of nightmares. Guillermo sucked in a breath. But the voice that came from beneath the helmet was the same as that which had comforted him as he wept, only tinted with amusement.

“I was never going to let them hurt your horses, Guillermo.” He stepped down the ladder. “Try to get some sleep, my sweet peasant. We leave on the morrow, and it is a long, hard ride to the next village.”

Guillermo listened to him leave. He heard his rapist, his king, his protector, his new Master exchange whispered, sweet words with each of the horses before going out to commit more unspeakable atrocities. He laid back on his bed, pulling the blanket up to cover his nakedness, and stared at the rafters overhead. All night long he remained in the loft, listening to the sounds of mayhem and waiting for his new master to come reclaim him.


End file.
